


Use Your Inside Voice

by Catchclaw



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, Humor, Library Sex, M/M, Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-05
Updated: 2012-07-05
Packaged: 2017-11-09 05:00:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/451577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas and Dean meet up in the library stacks, and, well, awesome stuff happens. That Sam overhears, much to his chagrin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Use Your Inside Voice

I leave Sam wrapped in maps and Platt books and ease over towards the bound periodicals.

Cas wants to see me. Didn't say why, but who cares? Can't wait to see him.

Been too long.

We're in DC, holed up in the Georgetown University library. Sam is in fucking heaven. Blends right in.

Me? Not so much.

It's summer, so the only kids around are all in high school. Overachievers. Still in the shrieky and annoying phrase. And they're all preppies. I hate preppies.

I swear, Sam popped his collar the minute he stepped on campus.

Whatever.

I'm only here because our shitty motel doesn't have power. It was like 95 degrees in the room when we woke up, and there was no way I was sitting in that oven all day. Alone. With no cable.

So I sucked it up and came to campus with Sam. Steeled myself for a day full of dull.

And then Cas called. Growled something about the periodicals and hung up. Mysterious.

Par for the course.

I slide up the main aisle. It's quiet. Almost deserted.

I pass the coffee machine and the copiers, turn the corner and bam. There's Cas, tucked into a corner.

And it's 95 degrees outside, easy, and humid as hell, and yet there he is in his freaking suit, his coat wrapped around him like it's February or something.

I grin, though, when I see him. Can't help it.

But.

"Dean," he says. Dark.

Uh oh.

"Cas?" I say, stepping around the shelves. Meeting him in the shadows. "What is it? You said it was urgent."

He meets my gaze. "It is, Dean. It is."

Then he grabs me by the arms, quick like a cat, and knocks me into the wall, his eyes so dark they're almost violet.

"Whoa, Cas, we can't--" I manage before he mauls me, rams his mouth into mine and gets really freaking grabby and that's so not a turn-on that I curl my hands around his face and sink my tongue down into his, wrap it around his teeth until he moans way the fuck too loud for a library and I--

"Cas," I pant, "baby, you gotta be quiet, you can't--"

But he ignores me and shoots his hands into my waistband, under my t-shirt and around my back. Digs his nails in, the way he knows makes me crazy, and bites my lip. Hard.

Unfair. So fucking unfair and awesome that now I'm the one making ungodly noises, shivering as he touches me, finally.

God, it's been too long. No wonder I can't keep my shit together. No wonder I'm about to go supernova in the bound periodicals section.

I get my fingers under his collar a little, enough to touch his throat and stroke his neck. That's his sweet spot, the one I only have to look at a little too long to get him hot, to have him reach for me, that half-smile tucked into his mouth. The one that says "I love you" and "I'm going to fuck you" and "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, Dean."

So now, when he's already going, that touch makes his head fall back, makes him whimper until I lean down and lick from the hollow to his chin, and back, work my mouth behind his ear and tease him, even as he knocks a knee between my legs, pulls me into a rhythm over his thigh.

My dick doesn't need to be told twice, and I start shoving myself into his body, part of my brain in my tongue as I skate over his skin and the other grounded in my freaking cock as my hips pick up his beat and fuck, I want his hands on me so damn bad I don't care where we are, who can hear.

"Too long. Too long."

And I realize that he's saying this, chanting it into my ear as his fingers catch my belt, hang there, tugging just in case I suddenly forget what he wants, how he wants me to move for him, on him, fuck, through him.

The sad thing is I could come like this, I'm wound so damn tight. Could come apart without him touching me, without his fingers curling around my cock, his mouth wide and sweet and wet, there, right there, sloppy and tight and ready for me, so ready, Cas, fuck! Baby, please.

The words fall out before I can stop them. I'm fucking begging an angel to suck me off behind 50 years of _Life_ magazine and I don't care, I don't, how desperate I sound or how crazy I must look. All that matters is him, now, goddamn it, I can't--

"Dean," he chuckles against my ear. "I do not understand. Is there something you want? Some service you wish for me to perform?"

And he's smug, so fucking smug, so pleased that he can do this to me, strap me in my seat and push me right over the fucking edge with his body, his WMD of a mouth and his hands, god, his hands are sliding down, over my thighs and in and that's it. That's fucking IT.

"Cas," I groan, my voice echoing in my ears, off the ceiling. "Suck my cock, please, Cas, please--"

He falls away like feathers and yanks my jeans open. Growling. I get my hand in his hair and tug and he sinks right down on me, takes all of me into his mouth. Keeps one hand around the base which is smart because I can't stay still, get to thrashing right away, watching him take me over his lips, his tongue turning over the head and I close my eyes. I have to, or else I'll blow up right away and I can't. Wanna enjoy it, enjoy him; hell, revel in his skill for a little while but, fuck, it's no use. Want him too damn bad.

I peek down and that's a huge mistake because his eyes are aimed straight at my heart. Reminds me of all the other times he's looked at me like that.

Parked above me, whispering in some other tongue as he fucks me, works himself in and out, his eyes locked away down deep in mine.

In front of Sam, when he's trying to be a dick, trying to turn me on so he can tease me about it later, rumble in my ear as I jerk him off like crazy in return.

In the middle of the night, when I've been dreaming about Hell and he kisses me, squeezes me until I squawk and says "I love you" in every language he knows.

I get one big whiff of the dust, the knowledge that's just rotting in here while the world's about to burn and I come, my hips stuck on fuck and my hand jammed into his head. Hear his name bouncing around the room, my voice fading as the echoes fall apart. As I do.

Shit.

He stands up and pins me to the wall, holds us both up with one arm. Panting my name, grinning like a complete idiot.

"Dean Dean Dean," he sings, pushing himself into me until I get the hint and unzip his pants, get my hand inside and grab and oh shit, he's hot. He's there. He's right the fuck there, "aren't you, baby?" I coo, jerking him hard, the head of his cock pulsing against my wrist. "Come on, Cas. Come on."

He's breathing like a freight train and trembling, all of his beautiful body tuned to me, to my hand on his cock, to my voice.

"Cas, baby. Yes. Come on. Come for me, Cas."

I snag his neck with my free hand and look right into his eyes, like the inside of a lighter, blue and white flame.

He moans my name and shoots over my arm, splashes onto my shirt and it's awesome and lovely and I kiss him, lap the taste of my come out of his mouth, his cock still caught in my hand.

We twist around each other, trading breaths and giggling, which sounds girly and dumb but damn, is it amazing.

I feel like I just jumped out an airplane with no chute and discovered I had wings.

"No more of this weeks-long bullshit," I tell him. Fierce. "You're gonna kill me, Cas."

He tilts his head, bemused. "Dean," he says. "It has only been three days."

"What?" I say. "No way."

He nods. Bites his lip. Trying to keep that Angel of the Lord face in place.

"Come on," I say, frowning. "It's been a week, at least." Had to be, as hot as I was for him. As on edge. As eager. Had to be.

He loses it, his face falling open in this beautiful grin. Laughs. Reaches up and taps my cheek. Rests his fingers there.

"I will see you soon, Dean," he says. "Pass on the appropriate greetings to Sam."

"Sam? What're you--?" I reach for his hand but he's already gone. Whoosh.

Someone clears their throat. Like really loud.

I turn, my stuff falling everywhere, my shirt a big sticky bunch, and oh shit.

"Hi, Sam!" I say. Way too bright. Hoping to blind him with science or something.

Sam is this great shade of red and, his face? Well, let's just say they've scrambled the jets and gone to the War Room already. Punched in the nuclear codes.

"Dean!" he hisses. "What the hell are you doing? Wait! Never mind! I don't want to know."

I stuff everything into place and give him my best innocent face.

"What?" I say. "I was just talking to Cas."

Sam snorts.

"Yeah, well, your 'talking' was so loud that I could hear you on the other side of the floor, asshole! On the other side of the damn building!"

"Pfft," I say. Determined not be embarrassed. "You're exaggerating."

I push past him and head for his nerd nook. Lead him back into the main aisle.

"Jesus," he barks behind me. "You are a self-centered dick sometimes, man. You're lucky you didn't get caught or arrested or something! What the fuck were you thinking?!"

"Shhh!" an old lady hisses. She pops out of the stacks, glaring. "Keep your voices down. This is a library, not a parking lot!"

"Yeah, Sam," I whisper. "Use your inside voice."

"I hate you," he bitches under his breath.

"By the way," I murmur as he brushes past me. Plunks down at his table. "Cas says hi."

He makes a face. "Who?"

I frown. "Dude, Cas. You know. Angel of the lord?"

He smiles at me in this creepy, faux nice way. "Oh," he whispers. "I'm sorry. Do you mean"--he throws his head back and moans--"Cas-ti-el!"

I feel my face go tomato.

Sam just smiles at me. "Is that who you mean?"

"Shut up," I mutter. "Just shut the fuck about it already."

But he doesn't.

"Dean," he says, beatific. "It's ok. Next time, just remember to use your inside voice."


End file.
